Memories Don't Fade
by Shirayuki1257
Summary: The Tsurumaru he knew had long since perished. His human form returning to dust, along with the almighty Hojo clan. Confusion strikes Mikazuki when his Saniwa smiths a new sword, a child of pure white, and the exact replica of the Tsurumaru he once knew. What does this mean? And, who is this child?
1. Prologue

The illuminating blue lights of an activated magic circle, drawn on the wooden floor, filled the darkened room with an eerie yet gentle glow. Dressed in a white haori and a long, red pleated skirt tied with a bow, stood the observer. Her brownish-blonde bangs casted a veil of darkness over her face. Anyone that saw her would've immediately assumed her as a Miko, a shrine maiden. The one who eternally keeps watch and weaves the threads of human life.

She scooped her hands together and held them out, allowing the magical energy within the room to gather within her palms, forming a golden sphere of light. With the squeeze of her hands, the sphere breaks, dispersing the energy throughout the room. It whizzes around the room as if desperately trying to escape, before finally settling before the watcher's feet. She holds out her hands once again, the energy shoots up in thin golden threads whilst twisting, turning and intertwining with each other, trying to become whole.

These threads are the 'golden threads of life', each thread responsible for the life of a human.

At first glance this maiden may seem like any ordinary human, but in her household, she is 'Master'. The Saniwa sage. Endowed with the ability to breathe life into historical swords to aid her with the never-ending battle against the evil forces that try to alter the course of history.

Granted a soul and human body to reside within, these swords live alongside their Saniwa sage to aid her as sword and shields in battle. With the help of these historical swords, countless victories in battle were assured.

But somewhere along the path of the Saniwa's journey, her swords began to evolve. Not just their strengths or skills in battle. They began developing the ability to learn and act on their own without the command of their Saniwa. They became capable of expressing human emotions. Newly breathed life in swords were given the body of a human child where they could age and grow. Though one quality that had seemed to remain the same was their inability to grow past adulthood, maintaining eternal youth.

Their relationship was no longer master and servant.  
They were a family. A family where emotions of love, pain, joy and hatred could be shared, forming the unbreakable bonds of friendship.

However, happiness is always just a fleeting moment. Danger loomed over the Saniwa and her swords. Battles became more threatening as the Saniwa dwelled in her glorious past, forcing her to open her eyes and face the reality they were living now. Lives were lost in the chaos of long battles. Sacrifices made to regain territories, and blood was shed to maintain the trust in fellow comrades. Leaving people with their memories of loved ones as proof of them ever existing in this life.

When countless blades of swords were broken and their human forms returning to dust, death became inevitable to all.  
Living was just another battle humanity had to face, except that their fates had already been decided from the very moment they let out a breath of air into this life.  
Eventually, all would return to nothing.


	2. Chapter 1

With a slender hand pulling up the long sleeves of his elegant kimono, Mikazuki picked up the brush and dabbed the fine tip of fibers into the ink slab gently, gathering just the right proportion of ink to draw a stroke.

Mikazuki took a glance at the blank sheet of mulberry paper he had set out, then closed his eyes to gather the concentration and focus he would need.

A scurry of feet on wooden planks could be heard coming from the hallway, breaking the little concentration Mikazuki had gathered. Before he could think of a coherent response to tell them off, the noise had already died down. Leaving him once again in utter silence. Deciding to ignore the ruckus and what could have possibly aroused it, he went back to the task he had in hand.

* * *

With a flick of his wrist, Mikazuki traced out the first character that came to his mind, dragging the brush gracefully across the paper with precise movements. Almost as though he had done calligraphy since a child. Mikazuki's calm expression turned to one of confusion, as he looked at his completed piece of work with the character Ai 愛 painted, wondering why the first word that came to his mind was _love_.

Nonetheless, still pleased with his work, he placed it aside and re-dipped his brush into the ink slab. Once again, unconsciously letting his mind flow, he traced out the words _Unmei no Yume_ (運命と夢) 'Destiny and Dreams'.

Before he could finish, the creaking of the hallways wooden floorboards under the scurry of feet could once again be heard. Mikazuki let out a sigh of frustration as he placed the brush down.

Waiting for the irritating noise to die down, he glanced at what he had down on paper so far; (運命) _Unmei_.

"Fate", he read out grimly, almost as though those words were poison on his lips.

* * *

A minute or two had passed, but the distraction from the hallway had yet to subside. It seemed as though with each passing second, the noise grew louder. And before he could comprehend what was going on, the scurrying of feet had turned to soft chatters.

"Do people not understand 'Quiet in the Hallways'?!", Mikazuki muttered rhetorically. Knowing that at this current moment, his presence in the house was being ignored.

He stood up and gripped onto the rim of the wooden screen door, raking it open in a sudden and forceful pull.  
The swords all jolted abruptly, stopping in their tracks as the chatter instantly died down. Mikazuki turned his head left then right, glancing at each of the swords currently in the hallway.

"Urashima, Aizen, Shishiou", Mikazuki said aloud, naming out a few of the swords.

"What is the meaning of all this ruckus in the hallway?"

Gulps were heard from people swallowing their breaths, or saliva, they never knew they held in.

"... ... ..."

But no one answered. No one dared to break the deafening silence.

"Monoyoshi?"

"A-a sword... A sword is going to be born...", the light brown haired answered nervously.

Mikazuki could feel a smile beginning to form between his lips, but quickly stilled his facial nerves so the others wouldn't catch onto how joyous he was feeling at hearing the news. It had been quite a while since Saniwa-sama last went to the blacksmith for a sword. They were constantly too low on materials to be able to forge a new blade. Even with expeditions and battles, the materials gathered went to healing and providing armory for the swords.

"Single file, quietly head over to the summoning room and await Saniwa-sama's arrival."

"Yeesss!"

The swords announced in unison and headed to the summoning room in silence, none wanting to defy the eldest sword's words and get under his nerve.

Although none had ever seen him angry, no one wanted to be on its receiving end. His strength in battle was more than enough to prove how powerful he was if angered.

He alone could easily defeat any of the swords in the household.

* * *

All had gathered in the summoning room, with the female Saniwa kneeling at the front of the room. A household maid silently slid open the screen door and the Saniwa's personal blacksmith marched in. Kneeling before her, he placed down the newly forged blade and bowed respectfully to the Saniwa. The female Saniwa returned the bow as a gesture of thanks before her blacksmith exited the room.

The swords awed at the beauty of the newly forged blade placed in front of their Saniwa. A sword of pure white, from the hilt to the scabbard, marked with traces of gold lining.

* * *

"Tsurumaru!" Mikazuki mentally exclaimed, shocked that the other blade would suddenly appear before him. He wanted to dash forward and wrap the sword in his tight embrace, to feel the comforting cool metal beneath his fingertips. Anything to remind him that the other was still with him.

But that was when realization had hit him. The only sword he held onto so dearly in his heart, had long since perished. His human form returning to dust, along with the almighty Hojo clan. This sword was a counterfeit! Regardless how much this sword and it's human form had resembled the 'Tsurumaru' he knew, it wasn't him. The Tsurumaru he knew, cared so much for, had long since ceased to exist.

The female Saniwa held out her hands over the sword as a warm light of gold enveloped the sword. Mikazuki blinked, waking up from his momentary shock and eyed her movements as she began muttering a series of foreign words; an incantation.

"Incantation's?" He muttered in confusion.

A Saniwa breathing life into a sword was nothing new to him, but not one of them included incantations to be chanted during the ritual. And as though he had imagined it, fibers of gold strands appeared from her fingertips and engulfed the sword in a blinding golden light, before detaching themselves from the Saniwa's fingertips.

All the swords immediately shielded their eyes from the impact of the brilliant gold light. And as the light subsided, a child of pure white holding onto his large sword was revealed. White hair, pale white skin and dressed in a white battle kimono attire. If one did not see the child properly, he would've appeared almost translucent to them.

The sight of the child was absolutely mesmerizing for Mikazuki. A child born so pure that his physical form was entirely white. He was a complete opposite from himself.

Gazing at the child, for the first time in his entire existence, Mikazuki felt a sense of self-loath for himself. And although Mikazuki himself was beautiful, he was not of light. He was a being of darkness itself.

It was as though this child was born to remind himself of how corrupted he has become.

"Kuninaga Tsurumaru is the name I grant you, and from this day onward, you serve under the name of Yuriko." The female Saniwa announced, her voice loud and clear.

Hearing the name, Mikazuki clenched his fists against his side as he felt anger seething through. Was this child trying to replace the Tsurumaru he had known? His name, his place, his body… everything he had cherished was slowly fading away from him. Gradually becoming replaced by this counterfeit blade!

Mikazuki's eyes widened in surprise, his anger subsiding and breaking him out of his daze when he saw thin threads of gold encircling around the child before slowly getting absorbed into him.

"The threads of fate..." Mikazuki thought aloud, his expression turning dark.

He glanced around the room at the other swords, looking for a sign in them that they too had seen what he just had. But they all chattered amongst themselves while others watched Tsurumaru in awe.

He was the only one who noticed. No, he was the only sword who could see the threads.

"Those of you who still have duties to complete, get back to them. Others, you can show Tsurumaru around and play with him in the backyard. You are dismissed."

"Tsuru-chan, let's go! We'll show you your room first." Mutsunokami said cheerfully, pulling the white haired child along the arms with a few other swords trailing him from behind.

Some had chatted in the room for a few more minutes, but gradually all made their way out.

All except Mikazuki.

* * *

"What do you want, Mikazuki? I am sure I made myself clear that everyone is dismissed" The female saniwa remarked, nodding to the maid outside as a gesture for her to close the door.

"What are you implying, Yuriko?" Mikazuki asked while he clenched his fist against his side.

"What do you mean?" She responded with a chuckle.

"Don't try to feign ignorance with me!" He spat, "I know what you did there. Summoning up those threads and binding it to the boy, those are not actions of a Saniwa sage, but rather those of the... Observer."

"Seems like you've figured out who I am."

"I'll ask again. What are your intentions with Tsurumaru?"

"You'll thank me sooner or later for what I did," the female Saniwa answered, deliberately avoiding his question.

"You saw how pure his sword was... don't try and dye him in your colours by controlling his fate... I'll kill you." Mikazuki threatened, giving a final warning before making his exit out the room. He didn't know why he was covering up for the new blade. But there was something about him which entranced him. And before he knew it, he found himself unable to ignore the presence of the younger sword.


	3. Chapter 2

A rough yet soft breeze blew, disrupting the gentle dance of leaves and knocking them off their branches. Rays of sunlight pierced through the branches of cherry blossoms, spewing specks of golden sunlight on shadowed patches of grass.

With the soft scent of sunshine up his nose and gentle chirping of crickets ringing in his ears, he just couldn't deny how comforting nature was at that point. Though sitting in the tea room and sipping down a cup of freshly brewed tea was most in his comfort zone.

If it wasn't for the rough bark of the cherry blossom tree against his head and distant voices that had seemed to be falling on deaf ears, he'd have fallen asleep. But rather than moving elsewhere for a better comfort, he stayed where he was. Closing his eyes and listening to whatever hit his ears first.

First was the chirping of crickets and whistling of leaves in the wind, then came the slight shuffling of his kimono. But everything seemed to fade when distant chatters were heard.

* * *

"...-chan! Come on."

"I'm Mutsunokami. People call me Mutsu though."

"I-i'm Gokotai…"

"Shishou. It's nice to have a kid in the house ya-know."

'Looks like majority of the swords has gathered there.' Mikazuki thought, while listening to the distant voices that had sounded almost foreign to his ears.

But even so, he listened to all those present fervently as they introduced themselves one after another, before making a mental note to self to introduce himself to the newly forged sword sometime during the week.

* * *

"Tsuru-chan, I'll toss you the the ball. You catch it!" The latter yelled and ran to a tree a few meters back, tossing the ball into the air and waited for the white haired child to catch the rubber ball as he instructed.

"Nice catch, Tsuru-chan! Here, throw it to me next!" Shishiou yelled as Tsurumaru caught the ball at ease.

Gradually, all the swords had joined into their small game of toss.

Before anyone could grasp onto the momentum of the game, the friendly yells of, "Toss it to me next!", had turned into, "Let's get Mitsu!", followed by a flailing Mutsunokami trying to dodge the violent hurls of the rubber ball. Any passerby could clearly see that the simple game of toss had become a rough tag game of "Come back here and let me kill you, Mitsu!"

"This game of cat and mouse isn't going to get us anywhere, y-know. If we are going to do it, why not just do it already?" Shishiou said aloud with an evil glint in his eyes, as he drew his sword sheathed in his scabbard.

"Woah, woah. Calm down, Shishiou," Kasen exclaimed, desperately holding onto the younger male's arm to prevent him from fully drawing out his sword.

* * *

Mikazuki chuckled amusingly at the scene he had thought up. He didn't need to see what was happening, he could just about make out everything from what he heard.

Though he had always preferred indoors over outdoors, Mikazuki had to admit that occasionally he found being outdoors quite comforting. It was how everyday should be; just the morning duties, chatting away or playing in the backyard. They too were human. They too felt pain and they too dreamt of countless days when they wouldn't have to face every moment in fear of an attack.

* * *

Tsurumaru looked around blankly, observing the other swords as they laughed about.

Seeming to have noticed this, Kasen questioned, "Did you have fun?"

"..."

He didn't utter a sound, simply just returned Kasen's questioning stare. Then he nodded, his facials still as blank as ever.

"Ne, ne. Why don't you smile?"

"... ... ..."

And that was when realization hit them, the child's silence being all the evidence they needed. Tsurumaru wasn't the child they had all been looking forward to. There was no child to dote on and raise. There was no soft giggles to fill in the quiet hallways or sweet smiles to welcome them home, no curious gazes wanting to learn or small tears to wipe away. Based on the child's glass orb-like gazes, there'd be no soul either, just an empty shell.

They all sighed dejectedly, not caring that their disappointment or disarray is now shown on their once cheerful expressions.

* * *

"Hmm. What's wrong, Kogi-kun? Did you finally decide to admire the beauty of those blossoms?" Hotarumaru teased, noticing that the fellow Taichi sword had been staring at a distant cherry blossom tree, when he'd usually pay vague attention to nature's beauty.

"Nah," the white haired responded with a cheeky grin before yelling towards that direction.

"Jiijii! You've been sleeping there like forever. Since you haven't introduced yourself to Tsuru-chan, your turn to play with him!"

"Ehh, Mika-chan is there?" the small Oodachi exclaimed.

"Kogi-san… this is Mikazuki you're talking to…" a Tantou sword warned nervously.

Sensing the Tantou's slight discomfort, Kogisunemaru laughed heartedly.

"Jiijii's as harmless as a mouse!"

"Me, harmless?" Mikazuki scoffed, "I could as well slit that little cunning throat of yours."

Though he had issued the little death threat, he silently hoped that the other hadn't heard him, knowing a battle against another Taichi would prove as a challenge even for someone like him.

"And as for a matter of fact, I wasn't sleeping." Mikazuki added.

"I'll welcome a challenge any time from you, Mika-chan." Kogitsunemaru laughed, almost as though he was looking down on the elder swords strength.

Before Mikazuki could prove so much as his strength against the fox-like male, Kogitsunemaru had already sent Tsurumaru towards him and had started heading back to the house along with a few other swords.

* * *

The only response Mikazuki could give now was a long sigh that went unheard by anyone, knowing that the task of 'babysitting' had just been passed onto him.

"Shf… Tph… Tph"

The soft sound of footsteps walking through patches of grass and disturbing their peaceful dance in the wind was heard. Mikazuki didn't need to turn his head to see who was approaching him, from the soft footsteps and utter silence of the being, he knew who it was.

"Kuninaga. Kuninaga Tsurumaru, right?"

The white haired boy moved to Stand in front of Mikazuki and nodded.

"Then… Tsuru-chan? Like how the others had called you."

The kid nodded again.

"I'm Mikazuki Munechika. Just ignore those remarks about me you're probably hearing around the house."

"..."

He didn't move, didn't say a word and just seemed to be staring intently at the midnight haired as though he was trying to read the elder sword.

Mikazuki extended a hand and rested it against Tsurumaru's cheek before cupping his hands to tilt his face upwards. He then ran his hand down the others neck and extended a finger to gently stroke his throat. Tsurumaru made no attempt to move, but under Mikazuki's touch, he could feel Tsurumaru's slight flinch despite his stoic appearance.

Mikazuki smiled softly. In that instant he realized what the others hadn't; Tsurumaru wasn't emotionless. He just didn't know how and why to express them.

"You have a voice, Tsurumaru. Use it. Whether it is to express happiness or sadness, express it through your voice. If you have words, say it. Not everyone will understand through your actions..."

Mikazuki took a breath of air before resuming with the lecture, reminding himself that this isn't the world it once was.

"Nothing's free in this world. If you want something, Tsurumaru, you have to reach out and grab it yourself; snatch it away from others… You're a Taichi, not a Tantou or a Wakizashi. You don't follow others, you command them. You don't work alongside others, you work alone to achieve what you want. And to do that, you'll need words. Without it, you're nothing but bait to the real world."

"If you're not going to speak to others, then speak to me. Make me your first." Mikazuki said, emphasizing his final words as though he was urging the young child to do so.

He had to get him to use his words. He wasn't going to let him become vulnerable to the real world. And despite how much he had despised the existence of the young child, he couldn't come to hate him. Not the child. Not when he's in the form of the only person he had ever truly cared for. But rather the threads which binds him.


	4. Chapter 3

"Tsurumaru, draw your sword." Mikazuki commanded sternly.

The white haired child didn't react, couldn't react, almost as though he had been stunned in place by the elder sword's sudden words.

"Draw your sword." Mikazuki commanded once again, showing no sign of consideration towards the young child.

Tsurumaru stared intently at Mikazuki for a minute or two before drawing his blade, catching onto the elder swords intentions.

"I'll give you a handicap. I'll use one hand," Mikazuki announced and held up his free hand. "You're free to use both."

Despite the fact that Tsurumaru disliked taking advantages of given handicaps, he knew in this parry of blade's against the ancient sword, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Tsurumaru took hold of his sword in both hands. Although the Taichi sword had looked much like a Oodachi in his hands, he showed no struggle but rather ease when he held onto his large weapon.

The young child showed no sign of movement, simply just taking his stance and observing the elder sword closely, allowing Mikazuki to make the first move.

Mikazuki nodded in approval at Tsurumaru's patience and his decision to observe his opponents movements, rather than charging aimlessly to score the first hit.

'Looks like there is no need to teach this child patience and observation.' And with that thought, Mikazuki drew his sword.

'He probably won't be able to react if I charged right at him.' Taking into consideration this, he walked towards the younger male and aimed his blade.

Making sharp and precise movements that was invisible to the naked eye, Mikazuki sliced diagonally, a strike that would've torn Tsurumaru's white robe if he was unable to defend himself against the blow.

Mikazuki smirked at the thought of his blow making a cut and tearing the others robe.

"Clang!"

Mikazuki's eyes widened in surprise at the sound of metal clashing against each another and the sudden halt of his swing, sending familiar tremors of shock through his arm as his attacking blade collided with defending one's. Immediately withdrawing his sword, Mikazuki aimed for another hit, but only to be blocked again.

* * *

 ****

 **"** **Look, look! Mikazuki's testing Tsuru-chan's strength."**

"Uwaah, he's fighting on par with Mikazuki-san."

"Have any of you's made it past his test?"

"Nuh uh!"

"Hey, hey. Wasn't Kogi-kun the only one who stood his ground against Mikazuki?"

Soft chatters filled the quiet hallway as the swords filed around the open window, all wanting to see how long the newbie would last against the ancient sword.

* * *

Attack, attack, attack.

Defence, defence, defence.

Mikazuki threw a series of hits, but all were proved fruitless when his blade connected with Tsurumaru's blade. Despite this, both refused to relinquish their upper hand they had in this mock battle.

"Clang!"

Mikazuki's eyes widened at the sudden change of events.  
This time, Tsurumaru was attacking and Mikazuki was forced to undertake defence. And before Mikazuki could get over his mild shock, Tsurumaru had already withdrew his weapon and thrusted his blade forward, aiming to pierce Mikazuki's abdomen.

Mikazuki stood, unable to respond to Tsurumaru's sudden attacks, as a frenzy of thoughts encircled his mind.

As soon as his mind had registered the danger of the upcoming weapon, Mikazuki could only lunge his arms forward. Gripping onto the blade, he forced the thrusted weapon to come to a sudden halt as he was met with a sharp piercing pain.

* * *

Tsurumaru stopped, his once strong hands that gripped onto his blade shook with what seemed like fear and his eyes widened with shock.

Thick crimson liquid trickled down his blade, dying the silver metal to stains of red.  
His knees buckled as he struggled to stay upright and nausea clouded his senses.

The blood wasn't his, he knew that much, because he couldn't feel any pain.  
Moving his eyes along his blade to where the blood came from, there was a deep gash visible on the palm of Mikazuki's hand. But even so, he seemed reluctant to relinquish his grip on the weapon.

"Y-your…. your hand… L-let go…" Tsurumaru choked, fear clearly audible in his soft tone as his knees buckled. If it was not for his strong grip on his sword, he would've met with rough solid ground.

Mikazuki's grip on Tsurumaru's blade tightened as he sheathed his own sword and pulled on the other, causing the young child to stagger towards him.  
Discarding his grip on Tsurumaru's blade, Mikazuki wrapped his arms around the younger child and pulled him into tight grip.

"It's okay, calm down. I'm fine." He whispered, soothing the younger child as he ran his fingers through his soft locks.

Relief washed over Mikazuki, followed by a moment of indescribable happiness. Tsurumaru had spoken words. He had expressed emotions. But despite the swelling emotions he had felt in that blissful second, a soft smile was all he displayed. There wasn't a mere second where he would drop his guard and allow his truthful emotions to show.

"I'll teach you the emotions which you cannot express… I'll teach you when to express them." Mikazuki spoke, drowning the white haired in his embrace as though he was his very own child. "I won't let become vulnerable to the outside world. I won't let fate control your life"


	5. Chapter 4

_**18 years later…**_

* * *

 ** _ ****_**

 **"** **Tsurumaru, get up! Quit moping around the house and get into the kitchen already. It's your turn to prepare tonight's dinner** **."**

 **"** **Uunnnh" Tsurumaru groaned. "You do it, Ichigo."**

 **"** **Hmm... Tonight's menu was supposed to be grilled fish and miso… Are you implying that you don't know how to make it** **?"** ****

 **"** **Hah** **?** **Anyone could make such a simple dish!" Tsurumaru fought back.**

 **"** **You know i'm never wrong, Tsuru." The tealette replied with a grin.**

 **"** **Haha. Then this time i'll prove you wrong,"**

 **"** **Are you suggesting a battle over this** **?"** **Ichigo smirked, knowing that this feat would be a simple task for himself to accomplish.**

 **"** **Bring it on, Strawberry." Tsurumaru mocked, returning the smirk as he made his way to the kitchen.**

 **'** **Just where exactly did he get his sharp tongue and confidence from** **?'** **Ichigo thought to himself, already knowing that this pointless battle was another win for him as he trailed the white haired Taichi into the kitchen.**

* * *

 ****

 **It had been almost an hour since the two began their cook off. Their debate over who was better at the task had quieted down to a silence, till all that could be heard from within the kitchen were crackling of flames slowly eroding away firewood and the constant blowing of breaths through wooden bamboo tubes to keep the flames alight.**

 **"** **How are you going, Tsurumaru** **?"** **The tealette asked, peering over Tsurumaru's shoulders, only to facepalm himself in exasperation at the outcomes of the others dish, even though both of them had performed the steps identically.**

 **"** **How did a meal of grilled fish turn to that** **?"** **Ichigo inquired out of curiosity, pointing to the mess of charred, black, deformed fishes the latter had produced. The longer he stared at the dish, the more it seemed to emit a cloud of black smoke.**

 **"** **...Well…" Tsurumaru started, but stopped when he realized he had no words to explain why his dish had turned out so horrendously, even though he had followed the exact same method as Ichigo.**

 **"** **Just how many fish did you use** **?"**

 **"** **Four."**

 **"** **Hmm… glad you didn't waste much. Wait, what? Four?!" Ichigo exclaimed, "Just what exactly were you doing this entire hour** **?!"**

And then Tsurumaru laughed, as though his burnt mess had never occurred.

"Hehe... you underestimate me too much, I-chii-go." He teased, "I made these!" Tsurumaru exclaimed, pulling out a tray of neatly shaped onigiri and rubbed his nose with a finger proudly.

Ichigo let out a long sigh, "At least you managed your time efficiently."

Tsurumaru gave a light hearted chuckle and started on his job of plating the food and setting them out in the dining room for each sword, while Ichigo washed the dishes.

* * *

"Hey, Ichigo, you usually eat with your siblings right? I barely see you in the dining room."

"Yea, it's become a habit I guess. Even though the Awataguchi house cease to exist now, we siblings stick together through thick and thin." Ichigo replied, taking a breath before questioning the white haired.

"But then I could say the same about you. You're usually with Mikazuki aren't you?"

"That's because we're both old esteemed blades of history." Tsurumaru began, his once cheerful expression faded to one of stilled emotionless. A facial he hadn't used since mikazuki 'taught' him how to use his expressions.

Ichigo's eyes widened with astonishment. "What?" he breathed, but before he could word out his question and ask the white haired sword what he meant by his response when he had only been forged a century and a half ago, Tsurumaru had already raised his forefinger against his lips. A gesture which indicated that he was not going to explain any more and ushered the tealette to not question him any further.

Turning to Ichigo, Tsurumaru smiled softly, almost as though he was trying to cover up the vague truth he had let the other into. "I'm going to take Mika-chan's tray to his room." Tsurumaru said, hurriedly excusing himself from the kitchen in case the lad would question him any further about his relationship with Mikazuki.


	6. Chapter 5

"Mika-chan, I'm coming in. I've brought you your dinner." Tsurumaru announced from outside the room.

"..."

The midnight haired didn't respond. But he had never once responded to Tsurumaru's calls. The latter simply let himself in. It was how it always had been and always will be. Because, words were never needed between them to understand the other.

Tsurumaru slowly slided open the paper screen door, careful to not spill the delicately prepared meal. "You could've at least answered me, ya know." The white haired pouted as he eyed Mikazuki lazily sipping his freshly brewed tea.

"What's the point?" Mikazuki asked, "you used to always barge into my room."

"At least I don't do it anymore." Tsurumaru replied, kneeling slowly and setting the tray of food before the other.

"Haha, you still do," he chuckled. "It's just that you announce your arrivals now."

"But the way I am now, is entirely influenced by you." Tsurumaru snickered, reminding Mikazuki that he was the one who had raised him.

This time he stayed quiet, his gaze drifting from the white haired to his opened screen door which lead outside. Mikazuki placed his cup of tea down. He had stopped drinking a while ago and simply conversed with the other sword. Mikazuki stood up from his spot, "Eh, where are you going?" Tsurumaru asked, while the midnight haired headed out the screen door, grabbing a bottle of sake and drinking cups on his way out.

"Out for a drink," he answered, turning back to Tsurumaru with a faint smile, as he sat on the wooden deck.

"Care to join me?"

Tsurumaru smiled softly, sitting next to the midnight haired, he grabbed the sake bottle from him and poured Mikazuki a cup, before pouring one for himself.

"What's wrong all of a sudden? You rarely drink." Tsurumaru asked and took a sip of the translucent liquid.

"Ahh, that hits the spot! You really do keep the best ones in your room after all."

Mikazuki chuckled amusingly at Tsurumaru's cheerful response. Regardless how many year fades by, the white haired cheerfulness and cheekiness still remains the same. Just like the morning sun that never fails to arise the following day. "Nothing. I just felt like having some sake rather than tea, that's all."

"Nnmmm," Tsurumaru mused, smiling contentedly to himself at Mikazuki's half hearted response, and leaned his side against Mikazuki's shoulder.

"Not once had I ever imagined that in this life, we could be together, indulging in a bottle of sake."

"Haha," Mikazuki laughed, "I certainly did not raise you to become this attached to me…"

"Rather than who you are… it's what you are that intrigued me."

"What I am?" Mikazuki responded, his brows perking up in consternation.

The white haired mused, his fore finger against his lips which expressed a solemn smile. And Tsurumaru hinted the truth, "Munechika, one of the five famous swords of Japan. Which came to be known as Mikazuki by the crescent moon-shaped patterns on your scabbard."

Tsurumaru stood and turned his heels, about to leave the suddenly tense-feeling room. But before he could make a move from his spot, Mikazuki, with outstretched hands, grabbed Tsurumaru's wrist and stopping him in his tracks.

"Tsurumaru…" he began, "no, who are you? How do you know that name?" Mikazuki asked, his tone low and demanding answers.

"I am Tsurumaru. Always have been and always will be," the white haired reassured the other. "Now, release my hand. I've told you more than enough."

But to Tsurumaru's surprise, Mikazuki's grip around his wrist only tightened, making it seem as though his joints were delicate porcelain parts that would snap apart any minute.

"Not enough for me to patch up the pieces together…" Mikazuki replied, "so why not just tell me, rather than hiding the truth and running away?"

He wasn't running away, he was simply hiding, hiding the dark truth he kept hidden from everyone around him, and portraying a cheerful air-headed persona. Because that way, people would not question him. But Mikazuki was different. Whether he put on an innocent or a cheerful front, Mikazuki could always read through him like clear water.

Tsurumaru turned to face the midnight haired, before questioning him.

"Then let me ask you. Why did you forget me? Or is your age getting onto you?"

"Forget you?" Mikazuki questioned back, "You were only born two centuries ago..." He reasoned, confusion in his tone, while he tried piecing together everything he knew to try and understand where the other was coming from.

"That's where you're wrong, Mikazuki." Mikazuki's eyes widened in what seemed like surprise and shock at Tsurumaru's next response, as he revealed the truth on his existence.

"While you may have lived longer than me, I've lived more than you. Far more than anyone could possibly imagine."

Tsurumaru paused, allowing the information to sink into the other.  
"Although my symbol," Tsurumaru started, pointing to the crane emblem he wore on the collar of his cloak. "Represents that of fortune and longevity, I've always brought the antithesis upon my Saniwa's. And in this life, without fail, shall be the same.  
Sadayasu Adachi, Hojo Sadatoki, Oda Nobunaga were all the master's I-"

Before Tsurumaru could continue, he was stopped by a soft trembling hand resting against his cheek. That was it. It was all the confirmation he had needed. How could he forget the others' existence? Tsurumaru wasn't a blade crafted two centuries ago; he had been crafted in the Heian period, a blade which he had crossed ways several times in history. He had been his family, his disciple, his enemy and his… lover…

"You're… You're the white crane… Are you not?" Mikazuki muttered, his voice soft and raspy from disbelief.

His heart pounded against his chest and his head running in circles. His Tsurumaru had long since perished in the bombing of the esteemed Hojo clan. It was the truth he had always believed. But even so, he wanted to momentarily think that his Tsurumaru was in front of him. Whether it was an illusion or a memory of the other, he wanted to feel his lingering touch against his own. Regardless how stoic he had appeared, how emotionless he persuaded himself to be. Be it a century or a millennium, he couldn't forget the white crane.

"Haha," Tsurumaru chuckled, his gold pupils staring into mesmerizing blue ones. "Though people would call me the red crane after hearing my story."

Tsurumaru closed his eyes and placed his hand over Mikazuki's, caressing the trembling hand that rested against his cheek.

He didn't know who had moved first, but before any could say as much as another word, their foreheads were pressed together. And soon, their lips met. Soft yet firm, Mikazuki pressed against Tsurumaru. His free hand combed through Tsurumaru's hair, gripping harshly onto his white locks. The kiss only grew more passionate when Tsurumaru licked his lower lip, asking for entrance which Mikazuki granted without hesitation.

Mikazuki broke the kiss, parting their lips as he gasped for air. If not for the lack of air, he was sure he could've continued kissing the other forever. The feel of the other's lips against his own felt like heaven. Much better than the memory he had held onto for the past few centuries. He had wanted to feel the other against his fingertips for so long. A confirmation that he was still with him, desperately trying to erase the truth he had always believed till now.

And yet for the past two decades, he was right beside him.

"I thought i had lost you…" Mikazuki whispered, tears threatening to escape his eyes as feelings of relief and joy overcame him.

Tsurumaru closed his eyes and softly laid a kiss on Mikazuki's forehead. Reassuring the other that he wasn't an illusion casted by his longingness for Tsurumaru's presence.

"I reverted back to my sword at the passing of Hojo Tokiyuki; the extermination of the Hojo clan." Tsurumaru explained, "For a few centuries, i went into unknown hands. Before i knew, i was granted life by Oda Nobunaga."

"But just like i had promised…" Tsurumaru continued, "I would find my way back to you. Because the time i had spent with you back then, were my most memorable."

Mikazuki smiled lovingly at Tsurumaru's confession. "If you had told me all this two decades ago…"

"What would you have done?" Tsurumaru laughed, teasing the midnight haired with his next response. "Showered me with your affection? But patience had always been a part of you, Mika-chan."

"Since when did the time frame of waiting patiently included a millennium?!"

"I sealed my memories of you." Tsurumaru revealed, "since my previous life would always connect with my next, i wouldn't know how to live if you weren't there. What if you had perished? Fell in love with another sword? Forgotten my existence? The seal was to unseal itself once we had spent a certain time together... then everything would become clear."

Mikazuki raised a finger and playfully flicked Tsurumaru on his forehead.

"You're my one and only, Kuninaga Tsurumaru. So don't say i'd go falling for another sword or forgetting you.

…

So what was the time span you had set on your spell?"

"Two and a half decades."

"Gosh, Tsurumaru," Mikazuki groaned. "You'll be the death of me one day."

"Well you're still alive and kicking now," Tsurumaru replied with a goofy grin.

Mikazuki leaned forward and gripped tightly on Tsurumaru's white attire.  
"You're mine aren't you?..."

Tsurumaru lifted Mikazuki's face by his chin and smiled. Reassuring the midnight haired that he was indeed his. Mikazuki's eyes were just like his. Filled with mystery, affection, a hazy gaze, and a want for something more.

"Then can I have you? ...Tonight?" He finished.

Tsurumaru didn't wait any longer. He kissed Mikazuki, a kiss more intense and passionate than the last one they had shared. The midnight haired was taken aback by the force, but he didn't dislike it. Closing his eyes, he followed Tsurumaru's lead. It felt nice to have the other take the initiative of the situation.

Tsurumaru readily grabbed Mikazuki and pushed him inside his room. Sliding the paper screen door shut behind him with his leg, he lead Mikazuki to his futon and laid him down.

The movement broke their intense kiss, leaving Mikazuki in a panting mess as he gasped for lost air. Tsurumaru hovered above him with a smirk, pleased that he could still strip the calm and superior Mikazuki to a panting mess.

Mikazuki couldn't help but to smile softly at Tsurumaru. He unconsciously outstretched his hand and gently caressed Tsurumaru's cheek.

Tsurumaru leaned into Mikazuki's comforting palm and returned the smile. "It doesn't matter how fate run its course. Even without my memories of you, I would've still fallen in love with you all over again."


End file.
